


your settlements in kind

by coyotestoryteller



Series: The Crane Wives NaNoWriMo [2]
Category: Original Work, The Crane Wives - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Past Relationship(s), Reminiscing, Songfic, The Crane Wives NaNoWriMo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotestoryteller/pseuds/coyotestoryteller
Summary: A oneshot for The Crane Wives NaNoWriMo.
Series: The Crane Wives NaNoWriMo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001391
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	your settlements in kind

**Author's Note:**

> November 4: Down the River/Keep You Safe

"I've always been a nervous person," she said, closing the curtains to block the light out-- she told everyone who would listen that it kept the furniture from fading, but Daniel-Lydia had become more and more convinced that she was simply scared of the outside world. "When I was a child, I was always terrified of what could happen to me. My friends would climb high-- you're young, I'm sure you've climbed your fair share of trees."

In truth, they had not, because this was a desert climate without strong enough trees for even a child to realistically climb, but Daniel-Lydia knew it was pointless to argue with her. She was the lady of her house, the queen of a crumbling castle, a holdover from another time. Mrs. Eastford was not the sort of person you questioned.

She was still speaking, now settling herself in a high-backed armchair. "I never climbed at all, and I always thought that someday, I would be brave enough to be adventuresome, to prove to all of them that I could be great. But I never learned it. Bravery isn't something you grow into; you don't wake up with another inch of courage the way you can grow an inch in a night. You have to learn it, build it up. Don't forget that, all right, child?"

They nodded along, but she wasn't even looking at them. "And then I grew up and fell in love. Don't ever do that either. Love drives people insane."

Daniel-Lydia had to suppress a snort. "I can assure you, I will never fall in love."

"We've all said that. Just pray you don't fall in love with a person as vile as my husband."

"What did your husband do?" they asked.

"How old are you again?" she said in reply.

"I'm sixteen, Mrs. Eastford."

"Well, then, you're old enough for me to describe him accurately. He was a bastard, but a handsome one. Every pretty girl in my little town wanted to sleep with him, but he chose me, and I was so proud of myself, so stuck-up, thinking I must have been special."

"And were you?"

"Ha!" Her sudden outburst echoed through the stale air. "No, no. None of us are special. There is very, very little separating you from anyone else. I'm rich, but at any moment, disaster could strike and I'd lose it all. You're pretty, but someday you'll be old--"

"I wouldn't define myself as _pretty_."

"Don't tell me you're one of those modest people who always has to downplay their beauty. You're a looker, child."

"Ah-- well, I'd rather say I'm handsome."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Handsome, pretty, beautiful, it's all the same. The point stands. You're handsome, someday you'll be old and you won't be handsome, and you'll have to hope that you've got someone who loves you by then, or are content without one. All of us can fall from our grace. I was never a special girl; he could have picked anyone, and I was, in fact, just anyone."

"All right. So he picked you, and he married you. What then?"

"Well, we were very happy for four years and two children, and then I found he'd been cheating me. And lo and behold, when I talked to her, she thought he was in love with her and only her, and that they would be married next spring. I couldn't blame her-- she'd been conned, just as I had. Her name was Amelia, and she was a beautiful woman-- dark curls, these deep brown eyes like pools of chocolate. I convinced her to confront my husband with me, and we marched into his study bold as brass and made our accusations. I told him he was a bastard and a scoundrel, and although. I still did love him dearly, I wanted him to redress the wrongs he'd done against us."

They leaned closer, almost unconsciously. "What did he say?"

"Nothing. Ab-so-lute-ly nothing. He didn't move at all until we were done, and then he went back to his work without saying a single word to us. And so we didn't know what we were meant to do, but we left his study and I walked her back home and told her that I'd visit in the morning if there was any news. I wasn't surprised that when I fell asleep in our bed, it wasn't next to him-- who would go to sleep next to the wife they'd been cheating? But the next morning, he was gone."

"Gone? You mean-- he just left?"

"He left," she confirmed. "Gone in the night, took most of his things with him. The dust didn't even have time to settle."

"What did you do without him?"

"Well, I got along fine. If I'd had the guts to, I could have gone after him-- asked everyone in town if they'd seen him, put ads in the papers. But I was too scared of what I'd see if I found him again. I raised my children-- money wasn't much of a bother, as we'd always been rich, and I didn't need much of a staff. I fell in love a few more times, all short-lived things."

"What about the other woman-- Amelia?"

"Oh, Amelia fell in love, had a marriage, no children, went around the country with him until they both died. Worked out quite well for her, after she'd gotten over the heartbreak and betrayal. But that isn't my point. The point is that he left us in the dust. I heard about him years later, from a story in the newspaper. He had a new wife by then, had made a name for himself in a new city. He's like a chameleon-- he erased himself, forgot all about the things he'd done."

"Well, he absolutely doesn't deserve to get away with that," they said, a bit indignantly.

"Well, he did. If I hadn't been so nervous, I could have gone after him, but I didn't. Often I wish I'd never read that newspaper. I have nothing to do with him-- and though I wish he had come clean back then, he chose not to. He was never the one to suffer. I was, and Amelia was. That's the thing about love; the one who makes the mistakes isn't always the one who gets hurt."


End file.
